Chronicles of Thagor
by WhackyPaladin89
Summary: This on going story follows Thagor, an ageing warrior who hails in Skyrim. 12 years after Alduin attempted to bring destruction down on Tamriel, Thagor, now a hired soldier for the Jarls and High King Ulfric is thrown into battle once more with the impending warning that war is approaching. Whispers in the winds say that the Dwarves are returning and very much wish their land back.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Disrupted Quiet**

Thagor was all too aware that he was not getting any younger, the signs were very clear as he hauled himself to his feet from the ground, splintered wood scattered around him. He shook his head, his mane of greying shoulder length hair swaying in the bitter north wind, trying to bring his senses back to catch up on him. Having just been booted through the door of the Dead Man's Drink, it was clear that Thagors mood was turning as rapidly sour as the day was unpleasant. The ringing in his ear lessened and the pain in the small of his back and chest subsided a little, allowing him to inhale quickly and speak towards the doorway. "I'll say again Pervian" he worked to keep his voice steady and nerves calm. "Come forward and answer for yer crimes as a good man and I reckon you'll avoid the block for sure". He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing at the shadows within the building. "Or you can try yer hand at blasting me through a damned door again, a path I strongly advise against". Thagor was not really a man built for words, a quiet man most his days, keeping communication brief and curt with people, more a man of action but as he had been advised by the Jarl of Falkreath that this situation may require a more subtle approach, he decided the best course of action to try his best at talking this lunatic down before he hurt anyone severely. A voice from the shadows, rasping like a rusted sword on a stone wall answered Thagors warning. "The old man thinks it's got me good" the voice hissed, "thinks it's got Pervian backed against a wall now, no, no not at all, Pervian too clever for the old man." Thagors nose wrinkled at these words, though he was aware that he was getting on in years and all too familiar to hear himself being called "Old Man", it still bristled his beard when he heard it aloud, especially from this swine hiding in the dark just now. "Pervian!" Thagor barked "Get yer arse out here now and I give you my word I'll not beat you down until you're a wee puddle in the ground, am trying to be fair here but my patience is ending hastily". A screech of anger emitted, that horrible rasping breathy voice "You'll not take Pervian back, no, no! He knows, he knows the fates of those in the mines, to die, die! DIE! No light. No warmth. Stench. Dust. All rotted like bodies, bodies we are and bodies we IS!" A flash of fire shot out from the door way, many yelled and ducked in fright as it struck Thagor on the shoulder, knocking him back and igniting his cotton shirt, he had seen no true enough danger to don his armour and cursed his own laziness to the core, slapping out the small flames quickly with a pained grunt, that wound would surely sting this night. Once the flames has been extinguished, Thagor grunted a low guttural sound and very suddenly bounded for the doorway, thrusting left shoulder out he charged straight into Pervian, who out of shock let his guard down and appeared out of thin air, as his invisibility spell dwindled away. Hissing, the black and red Khajit made a swipe at Thagors back, drawing blood from three long scratches that made Thagor huff in pain, turning on heel and using the momentum of the charge Thagor lifted Pervian clean off the ground and brought him down upon a table, the legs cracking and giving way from the sheer force of the blow. Pervian screeched and hissed in pain, recoiling as he landed and rolling out from Thagors boot, which was coming down to meet Pervians face at an alarmingly violent rate, narrowly missing his skull by inches, a dull thud as Thagors boot made contact with the stone ground. "I gave you fair warning Pervian" growled Thagor as he grabbed Pervians tail as he attempted to crawl away, pulling him back into his grip Thagor picked him to his feet and delivered a punch to Pervians left cheek that rocked him off balance and into the wall, sliding down in a whine of pain he covered his face for a second punch but received none, slowly looking up he saw Thagor standing over him, green eyes blazing purpose and teeth bared in anger, yet he made no move. "Pervian Venroth", the quiet ferocity of Thagors voice made him flinch a little, "By order of Jarl Siddgeir, I am to bring you back the Cidhna Mines of Markarth, where you will spend the rest of your days answering for your crimes against Skyrim and its people, those which include thievery, assault and murder of the first degree on a Guard of Whiterun whilst on duty. Should you attempt to deny or resist in the handing out of this sentence, I am obliged and by now damned willing to put you down once and for all, do you understand?" Thagor expected objections, he expected anger and even a possible attack, what he did not expect was for Pervian to nod dumbly, seeming to have lost all words within him and sag with defeat. Thagor nodded and looked outside, gesturing to three of Falkreaths Guards to come in and clap the chains on the Khajit before he found his wits again. He stood outside and inhaled deeply, enjoying the slow quiet of the North Wind on his face, cooling his brow and wiping the beads of sweat from his skin. Thinking on it, the weather was not warm enough to merit sweating of any sorts, yet here he was with a sheen upon his brow, swaying gently as he stood, then it hit him and damned once again he cursed his own foolishness. "The scratch" he called to a guard close to him "I've been scra…scratched by…" He stumbled his words and felt a sudden weakness in his legs, sinking to his knees and coughing up a spittle of blood the guard rushed forward to assist Thagor "Damn, get a healer quick! Thagors been poisoned, he should…." That was the last thing Thagor heard before unconsciousness took him in its full embrace. "Damned fool" he told himself as he sank into darkness, "Pervian the Poisoner...Damned...old...fool"…..


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Rough Awakening**

Darkness, it swamped everything, suffocated entirety. For a long moment there was nothing, just stillness in the dark that seemed all too heavy. "Am I dead?" thought Thagor to himself numbly, not bothering to open his eyes in fear of the dark pouring into his skull and collapsing behind his eyes. A hum, from the furthest distance, seemed like miles away, over mountains and through trees, it rippled through the black lake that swallowed Thagor's everything. Again the ripple, that small vibration but this time a little more clear, it wasn't a hum, it was words, quietly spoken in the distance and so very far away, Thagor couldn't quite make out what they were saying so he strained his ears and furrowed his brow. "What? What say you?" It hurt him to speak, his throat seemed swollen and tender, he tried to swallow but it was like live Chorral infants were fighting their way down. The voice again, closer now, so very close that he could make out the tone, almost the words. "..Up" said the quiet voice, it was a man's voice, deep and curt. "Up?" repeated Thagor. "Aye man, up with ye!" the voice so loud suddenly that Thagors senses were invaded all at once by this new sensation of sound, knocking the darkness forward and hurtling towards a light, like the opening mouth of a caves entrance. "Up! Damn you man, been sleeping long enough so by the nine open yer damned eyes!" The light crashed into Thagors vision and open his eyes he did.

…

Thagor was in a house, simple but comfortable and warm, lying on a bed of bear skin and feathered pillow, the rich smell of stew found its way to his nose making his mouth salivate despite the pain in his throat. His eyes were itchy and his nose hurt, he went to sit up and his head swam, slowing him as he took a sitting position, leaning back against the comfortable pillow. He felt a bandage on his back and looked at his chest, noticing not only had his shirt been removed but the bandage had been well wrapped to hold the wound on his back safely. Beside him lay a clay mug of water and a half loaf of bread, despite his stomach objecting he tore a chunk of the bread and chewed slowly, grimacing as it went down with all the ease of gravel, then he took a large swig of water, wishing heavily that it was mead. He looked forward into the room and nodded at the figure who has spoken to him, who was currently sitting tending to the stew. "Lod" Thagor grunted, his voice husky and coarse "was that you barking at me in the dark?" Lod looked up, a man in his late 40's, strong and resilient, the Blacksmith of Falkreath for many years now, his dark hair cut short and as always wearing his red cotton shirt with blacksmiths apron. "Aye" he answered with a nod, "I felt you'd slept long enough in my bed." Though his voice was a strong one, calm and collected, there was a softness in it there, a tone only one could have with a friend sharing a joke. "You were out for a whole night, the poison that inflicted you was nasty but relatively non-fatal", he stood up and placed the wooden stirrer down and went to the cupboard, he brought out Thagors shirt, cleaned and dried and threw it at him, Thagor caught it with a small wince of irritable pain in his back. "Harrada Root and Stinkhorn Cap." Lod explained with a grin, "Nasty little bastard, aims right for the muscles and bones, semi paralysing and all unpleasant" he finished the last word with a laugh. "You're getting old Thagor, to let Pervian get the better of you like that so easily" his grin spread into a smile on that haggard face of his. Thagor grunted a rather foul comeback at the Blacksmith but grinned back, pulling on his shirt he stood slowly but steadily "The poison was made to ail me, not to end me, was he taken when I was out?" Thagor inquired with a frown, it was heavy on his already numbed mind, why had Pervian not aimed to kill Thagor, should that poison have been a stronger one, perhaps a nightshade mix, he would most certainly have died. "Aye" said Lod, "half way to Markarth by now I reckon, back to Cidhna mines where he belongs, little bastard." Thagor nodded to the pot of stew, "that all of for you Blacksmith?" Lod gestured to a seat and collected two stone bowls, pouring stew into each, he sat them down on the wooden table at the corner of the room, then reached in to the cupboard and pulled out two bottles of mead. "Don't reckon I have to force ye, do I Thagor?" Lod chuckled and placed the bottles down, sitting as he did. The stew was delicious, flavoursome and hearty, with each swallow Thagor felt his strength return to him a little more, as they ate so too did they speak of the days in general, of business and family. The afternoon sun rose high and the snow tops at the Throat of the World glistened in the distance, giving it an oddly sinister look, beautiful, but sinister. Thagor was getting washed at the stone basin when he heard a rap at the door, looking at Lod through wet hair, an inquisitive look in his eyes, Lod merely shrugged and went to open it. Standing at the door way, tall and draped in a grey cloak, old as stone with a gaze sharp as a dagger stood Borri of the Grey Beards. "Master Borri," Lod nodded in surprise, "a fine surprise this is to see you here indeed! Come in, won't you?" Lod stood clear as Borri entered with a wry and pained smile on his face. "Thank you, Lod of Falkreath" answered the old man politely, "I am sorry that my visit is not one of better circumstance" he looked at Thagor who had been drying himself off. "Borri" Thagor murmured, "long way down from the Throat, what has brought you here?" Thagor knew the answer would be a heavy one when he saw the look of weariness in Borri's eyes, but the word that Borri uttered next Thagor did not expect. "War, Thagor"…War is coming, tell me, what you know...of the battle of the Red Mountain?"


End file.
